


Hard Boiled

by mvernet



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 1941, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Fantasy, Dreams, Drunk McDanno, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 01:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: Detective Milton Cooper doesn’t like anything about Hawaii. Except for one gunsel flatfoot who’s always on active duty, if you get my drift.Canon-Fantasy based on S9E7. The one with the 1941-style dream.





	Hard Boiled

Milt sat in the oppressive dark by the one window in his fleabag hotel room. He sat in his sweaty fruit-of-the-looms, praying for a cool breeze and contemplating his life so far. There was no view of Hawaiian beaches or hula girls. Just sweltering streets, the flashing neon of a low class ginmill, and the ossified bums that frequented the joint. Milt was too tired to care about harassing them. Besides, he rather enjoyed listening to the torch songs coming from the place, wafting through the sultry night air. If you looked up from the street to Milton Cooper’s window, all you would see is a shadowy figure and the soft glow of a cuban cigar. He took another drag, the red light was like a beacon shining over a sea of melancholy blues.

_Ummm. nice. Nothin’ like a good Havana at the end of a successful case, hand rolled on some gorgeous Cuban dame’s breast or her brother’s brown muscular thigh, I ain’t picky. No not picky at all. I’m entitled to one vice, well one I can admit to anyways._

Milt knocked the thick gray ash from his cigar into his coffee mug, his mouth twitching in mild disgust as the dregs of his morning perk mixed with the smoked tobacco. He glanced at the cigarette butt filled, complementary ashtray on the grimey sink attached to the wall by the deadlocked door. The bathroom was down the hall on the right, but Milt’s one room flat had a sink, a bed, a dresser, an enamelled table with two tipsy wooden chairs and a window. 

_If only my gay divorcee’ of a wife could see my kingly accommodations. I’ve sure moved up in the world. Jersey gumshoe to one of Honolulu's finest. Livin’ in paradise. I owe it all to her. It was my own fault really. If I feel like bein’ honest. What was I doin’ married to a swanky girl like that. I was asking for trouble._

Milt wandered off into a memory of his little brother, Sach introducing him the future Mrs. Cooper. 

_Sach was made for being married, just like he was made for being in the Air Force. I was so proud when he signed up. Gonna get my lazy ass out of Newark, he says, gonna help England fight that dope, Hitler, Milty._

Sach volunteered to fly goods and supplies to England on Roosevelt’s Lend-Lease program. Americans in general weren’t ready to enter the foreign war, but Milton’s brother hated bullies and wanted to help. Milton smiled thinking of his brother and him scrapping with the neighborhood mooks who dared to even look at their sisters.

_Sach looked so spiffy in his uniform, I wasn’t surprised when he snagged a prize Kewpie doll out of the London rubble and brought her home to Ma. My sister-in-law is a gem, too bad she got all the sweetness in that family. Her sister who came with from England, my darlin’ ex, might as well have taken me out with a torpedo. But I loved her. God help me, I still kinda do, sometimes._

Milt balanced his lit cigar precariously on his coffee mug and pushed his chair back. He went to the dresser and picked up the bottle of rot gut he kept for medicinal purposes. Like now, when he was sick and tired of his stinking life. He glanced again at his glass ashtray shaped like a pineapple, with five burned out cigarette butts he couldn’t bring himself to throw away. McGarrett always had a cigarette after. He didn’t visit all that often. But Milt treasured every memory. He brought two glasses over to the table with the half-full bottle. He filled both and paced one by the empty chair, downing the other quickly, and refilling it. He lifted his shot glass and held it up to the neon glow that assaulted his claustrophobic room with glaring reality.

_You got it bad, Cooper. And that’s not good. McGarrett’s a tough nut to crack, but worth the effort, that's for sure. Lookit you, moonin’ after him like a bobby soxer. He shows up, he doesn’t. What difference is it to you? Not like you can say the three little words and take him to the honeymoon suite at the Ritz. White lace isn’t becomin’ on either of us hard-boiled detectives._

Milt downed his second shot of whiskey and picked up his stogie just before it fell into his mug. He took a long drawn out drag and formed his mouth into an ‘o’, blowing smoke rings out the open window. A brand new 1941, gleaming yellow, checkered cab pulled up to the curb. Milt felt his heart fall to his feet. McGarrett sometimes payed a call after a case. Their illicit trysts were hot, rough and fast. But Steve always stayed for a cigarette and a few shots. Then he would kiss Milt and his heart would soar like a zeppelin. Only to crash and burn like the Heidelberg when Steve dressed and left without saying a word. 

Outside Milt’s window the hustling cabbie ran around to open the door for a pair of gams connected to a doll dressed in satin and furs. She slinked out of the back of the cab followed by a grinning fool in a bad suit. Tourists slumming it. Or cheaters looking for a dive none of their friends would be caught dead in. Milt wanted to get out his gun and shoot them. Milt filled his glass again and bolted down his poison of choice.

_Learn your lesson yet, Cooper? Getting hot under the collar, leads to bad things. Like boyfriend Stan beat to a pulp next to my war bride while she’s bawlin’ on the floor of our bedroom. Like havin’ old Stan’s lawyer demandin’ my badge. Like my Captain, bless his long sufferin’ heart, takin’ my part and gettin’ me this job in this pineapple infested hell hole. Gettin’ me partnered up with McGarrett. Steve McGarrett who isn’t gonna come tonight to make my body sing and my heart break. Steve McGarrett who will never tell me he loves me, just like I’ll never in a million years tell him the same._

Milt reached for the second shot glass. The one by the empty chair. He raised it in salute to his ashtray filled with five cigarette butts. He let the burning fire of the rot gut pull him under. He put his head on the table and wept silently, his ragged breaths the only sounds in his lonesome room. After a few moments he felt a hand on his head, gently stroking his hair.

“Babe. Oh, babe. Don’t cry. Wake up now, buddy.”

Danny opened his eyes and raised his head. Steve had pulled a chair up next to him and was giving him a soft look filled with concern. Steve hugged Danny as best he could. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Danno. Hey, it’s okay, now. Justa bad dream. I tell you, Danno, we have become a couple of lightweights, with one good liver between us. We were drunk after three shots each. I let you doze, till you started mumbling and getting upset. Probably all my talk about the dream I had set you off. You okay, babe? You wanna tell me about it?” 

Danny wiped his eyes. The vibrant dream had broken his heart to pieces. He tried to tell himself it was only a dream. But the feelings had seemed so real. Were real. Danny felt compelled to say the words that Milton Cooper never could. “Steve. I love you.”

Steve smiled and went back to smoothing Danny’s hair. “I love you too, babe. I’m so glad you’re not mad at me. I called Kamekona and told him we might want to let him buy us out. I also told him I was pretty sure we were drunk. He said he’ll talk to us tomorrow when we’re sober. He also said he’d send his Uber over to pick us up and take us home, free of charge.”

Danny managed a smile. “Kame has an Uber?”

Steve shrugged. “I was more impressed by him letting us use it for free. I think he wants our restaurant, bad. Your Jersey style and fantastic recipes overwhelmed him a bit. With his past, I don’t think he could have envisioned owning such classy place and being treated with so much respect. Must of been a dream come true for him, too. We’re doing a good thing stepping away, Danno. You sure you’re not upset? You sure look upset.”

Danny sat up a little straighter and took Steve’s hand. “Steve. I want you to listen to me, babe. I want you to hear, uh, my words. I have to say the words. It’s important. You don’t have to do anything, change anything, or feel uncomfortable. I just need you to hear me, okay?”

“Okay. Danno. Take it easy. Okay. I’m listening.”

“Steven McGarrett, I love you. You’re my best friend, my partner and I love you with all I got. I’m thinkin’ maybe we could have more than just being best friends. I think maybe we could have it all. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to sleep in your arms every night. I want my kids to call you Daddy. I want to grow old with you. I don’t want to die alone in some two-bit sleazy hotel with a sink attached to the wall and a glass pineapple ashtray filled with the ashes of dreams. I. Love. You.”

“Aw, Danno, I love you, too. Like that. I’d like that. What you said. Me too. You are a dreamer, Detective Williams. You dream big and you make dreams come true, for yourself and for others. I think I might like being in your dream.”

A horn blasted the partners back into reality. But both had smiles clinging to their faces. Danny let go of Steve’s hand. They put away their bottle and glasses, shut off the lights and locked the doors of the restaurant. When they stepped outside, Danny gasped. The smiling driver came around and opened the door to the 1941, gleaming yellow, checkered cab. Steve took Danny’s hand. “Come on, babe. Let’s go home.”


End file.
